


Good to You

by stoleyouaway



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, pining!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoleyouaway/pseuds/stoleyouaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry keeps a journal, which he fills with letters to Louis. Love letters, recounts of his day, his innermost thoughts and desires. Every word that Harry has ever wanted to say, but was forced to keep quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Words Are Coming Now

**Author's Note:**

> The story title and chapter titles are taken from the song 'Good to You' by Marianas Trench.

Dear Louis,

You looked so beautiful tonight under the stage lights, your face lit up like a thousand suns as you faced our audience. You sang out your heart. I love the way you look when you sing, when you bare your soul to the crowd.

I wish you would keep that vulnerability always. But you have your insecurities, and you’ve been hurt by people before. Your walls protect you.

I don’t want to acknowledge the barrier that’s been built between us. I don’t want to pretend that it’s not there, either. I just wish that I was me and you were you, and neither of us had to put on an act. I want to ask you how you really feel, but I’m terrified to know the answer.

I hate hiding. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, everything I believe. But we all read the fine print of that contract, had everything spelled out to us plainly, and I still chose to sign it. Not because I wanted to, but because it was the only way to stay together as a band.

I don’t think anyone sacrificed quite as much as you that day, though, Lou. You chose to push everything away, to lock it up tight in a box in your mind and refuse to recognize it even when it was screaming at you to come out and be acknowledged.

I’m not much better, but at least I’ve come to accept who I am. The internal battle is lessened by the fact that I know who I am and who I love.

I hope that someday, we can free ourselves from the spotlight enough to let our true feelings show. No more lies, no more deceit. I want to hold your hand. I want to open your door and take you to your favorite restaurant. I want to be able to touch you without worrying that someone’s watching.

I wish I could kiss you like I used to. I wish I could hold you like I used to. But nothing’s the same anymore.

I wish you’d come back to me.

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

-Harry


	2. I Can't Find My Breath

Dear Louis,

You looked at me today. Not just an ordinary look or a passing glance. I saw you really look, like you were searching for something deeper than the surface. It made my breath catch; I stared back at you until you looked away. I miss your eyes. I miss the way they used to light up when we first saw each other after some time apart. I miss the way you’d envelope me in your arms and hold on for dear life, like you were afraid I was going to leave.

Now, I suppose I’m the one holding on too tightly. Too afraid that if I let go, it will be a more permanent separation. I’m constantly terrified that each time we touch will be the last.

I remember the brush of your fingers against mine, your hand pressed against my back when we hugged. The way you burrowed your face slightly into my shoulder. How I was left gasping for air every time your cool breath ghosted over my neck. How your smooth, tender lips would leave trails of fire on my body. Each time we made love, we explored each other, tasting and touching and rubbing and pleasuring until there was no more left to give to each other.

But of course, those times are long gone. I’m sure you haven’t thought about me in that way for just as long. Those memories belong only to me now.

I don’t know if you’re happy right now, Louis. It’s so hard to tell with you nowadays. You keep so much from me. I don’t know why; I don’t know if it’s because of our history, but I just want to be your confidante again. I want you to spill your soul to me like you used to. I want to know every inch of your heart.

But you are no longer mine to know.

 

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

 

-Harry


	3. Say The Rest With No Sound

Dear Louis,

A lot of people have asked me if I hate her. No. I don’t hate her.

I hate what she does to you.

I hate the way you look when she comes around. I hate the way life just leaves your eyes. I hate the way she shuts you down and takes away your laughter and your sparkle and turns you into someone I’m afraid to know. She is an anchor, and her only purpose is to drag you down.

I remember the first day I met her, and exactly how she was introduced to me. Simon himself sent a car to pick me up and take him to his offices.

He stood and met me at the door with a firm handshake. We didn’t sit. For a moment he just looked at me, and his expression was almost … pitying.

“Harry …” he began, but then he stopped. I was holding my breath, dreading what he would say if he was having trouble finding the words.

Then she glided into the room, frighteningly silent as her heels sunk into the plush carpet.

Simon breathed loudly once before gesturing to the woman behind him. “Harry,” he said. “This is Eleanor.”

I didn’t shake her hand, though she held it out for me. It wasn’t because I was being intentionally rude. It’s just that I knew exactly why she was there. It didn’t take me very long to piece it together. Simon’s obvious guilt and hesitation, her cold demeanor, and the recent rumors that had been circulating… It all made sense. She was here for me.

“Meet Louis’ new girlfriend.”

My blood chilled instantaneously. The words wouldn’t sink in, no matter how hard I tried to absorb them. No, I thought. Not Louis. Not him.

But it was too late. Every arrangement had been made, all the other boys had been informed of the situation, and there was nothing I could do. Not for you, not for us.

Later that same day, you broke up with me. Whatever we called our relationship up until that point — boyfriends, lovers, experimental friends — was cut off abruptly as she entered our lives. No amount of pleading or bargaining or reasoning with you could convince you that she was a bad idea.

“No,” you said, stoic and cold as you stared at me with dead eyes. “Harry, I can’t do this with you anymore. What we had … it was fun, for a while. But we both knew it would never last.”

Tears rushed down my face in rivulets and I did nothing to stop them. “Why are you doing this?” I whispered, barely able to summon enough breath to speak. “You love me, Louis.” But I was unsure. I didn’t know anymore what you felt for me.

You shook your head, and I felt the lump in my throat swell with your denial. “Harry, what we had … it was fun, but it wasn’t love. We’re young, we don’t know the first thing about love. Experimenting is … it’s natural. Everyone goes through a phase.” You straightened your neck but couldn’t look me directly in the eye. “But it had to end eventually, Harry. I like Eleanor. Just … accept that.”

I couldn’t. I still don’t accept it. Somehow, you and I reverted to being just friends, although it was tense and strained at first. The other boys had a pretty good idea of what had transpired between us, but we kept the specific details to ourselves. At first it was so hard to even be around you. I looked at your face and pictured you with her. Every time you smiled at me, or laughed at one of my lame jokes, or said something that was reminiscent of our relationship together, my heart splintered a little more. I desperately wanted to tell you that I loved you, that we were the ones who belonged together, that I was meant for you … but my tongue was tied. I had to stay silent to protect you. For you, I could do that. For you, I’d do anything.

 

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

-Harry


	4. I Still Don't Measure Up

Dear Louis,

When did this charade begin? It feels like this has all been an act from the very beginning. We barely had any time to decide if this was really worth it. Making music had been our ultimate goal; we never even fathomed this kind of fame and success. We never imagined this level of dedication from so many thousands of people around the world. We never imagined the spotlight would be quite this bright. We never, ever imagined the level of scrutiny our every move was under. We have no room to breathe, to function, never mind to actually live our lives. Sometimes it just feels like too much and I just want to crawl into your arms and have you hold me against your chest and tell me everything’s going to be alright, even if it isn’t. I want to take us to another time and place where it’s acceptable for us to be together, even if we had to give up our band and our music. The band is my job, but Louis, you are my life. And I’d choose you over fame a million times.

The rift between us is growing; I can feel us drifting farther and farther from what we were each day. I’m afraid that the longer you spend with her, the more you forget about me. I’m afraid that if this separation keeps up much longer, there won’t be any more hope for us. It’s exhausting, loving you when I don’t even know if you love me. If you ever loved me. If you even could love me.

You are not heartless, Louis, and definitely not oblivious. I know you know what you’re doing to me. You must. Most likely it’s intentional, to keep me away and save me the inevitable heartache that comes with denial. But my heart already aches, a deep throbbing pain in my chest that does not cease, not even when you are right next to me. Your heart is far from mine, and that’s what hurts the most.

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

-Harry


	5. I'm Not Prepared

Dear Louis,  
I saw the trend on Twitter today. I know you saw it, too. You didn’t look at me all during rehearsal or dinner, not even when we played Playstation afterwards in the bus. I know you were thinking the same as I was. Please, God, tell me this isn’t true.

The second I saw it, I could feel my gut churn. I refused to see the words that were clearly in front of me, and their implication. People had taken their lives. Not people, fans. Teenagers.

Because of me, Harry thought, a bitter taste in his mouth. Dead because of me.

You had the same thoughts, dark though they are. I know you, Louis. I know you blame yourself too.

I don’t know how to live with myself knowing that lovely, beautiful people have passed because of me. Because of something that transpired in my life. Something that was beyond my control. There’s this sense of longing; some sort of pull. To know and save these lives that are already gone. To acknowledge it in some way. To speak to the rumors and pray that they aren’t true, and to beg that it ends now. I want to address ‘Larry,’ to give the honest-to-goodness truth to the people who deserve it more than anyone — the people who love us and support us no matter what. But I am forbidden. And I never felt like my hands were tied more than at that exact moment.

I asked to borrow Liam’s twitter. He looked bemused for a moment - why would I need to borrow his twitter, unless to hack it? His expression remained suspicious until I show him the trend. His shoulders sagged and his mouth dropped considerably as he scrolled down, reading the tweets of sorrow and loss. I saw him swallow, like he’s trying not to cry, and he wordlessly handed over his phone, the ‘new tweet’ window already up for me. I sent two tweets, making them seem as vague and Liam-like as possible. I gave it back to him and he reiterated my point, making it more relative and not so out of the blue. He even used the word ‘bullshit’ to refer to the asinine documentary, and I couldn’t help but give a wry smile. It’s all bullshit. It’s all fake. We’ve been putting on a front the entire time, pretending to be something we’re not. The rift caused by our tension has strained the entire band, and I hadn’t realized quite so much until I saw the look on Liam’s face as he looked at me. There wasn’t an expression there. He just seemed … weary. I hadn’t realized that our issues had that much of an affect on the people around us.

“Harry,” he said gently, slowly. Like he was walking on eggshells. “How do you feel?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Terrible,” I said to my hands. “I’ve never felt so sad in my whole life.”

“It’s not your fault, Harry. It isn’t Louis’, either.”

I nodded, knowing this was the truth but still I let the blame lie with me. I am a coward, I thought. I let people die and still I am hiding.

I don’t know that I want this anymore, Louis. I don’t want the music or the fans or the band if it means people are going to die for us. I just wanted to sing. And I’ve gotten all that and more. Except for you. I’ve fallen in love with my best friend. And I’ve been rejected by him.

So where does that leave us?

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

-Harry


	6. Sorry Is Never There When You Need It

Dear Louis,

I never imagined it would be this hard to love you. To love anyone. And I thought that, once I knew I was in love, that it would at least be returned.Sometimes, when I catch your eye, I think I see it. But you hide it from me; as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. And it frustrates me, that you can no longer be my friend. You go out with the other boys and Eleanor and I stay in the bus because I cannot bear to see you pretending and kissing on her. I can’t keep up with the charade like the other boys can.

“What the hell is your problem?” you confronted me one night when I yet again refused to go to a bar with everyone else. You tried your hardest to look menacing, stretching to your tallest and pointing your finger in my face. “Why can’t you just come out with the rest of us and have a good time? Why do you have to ruin everything?”

“You know why I can’t.” My voice was calm, level, though my hands shook in tremors in my sweatshirt pockets.

“You can,” you insisted, “but you won’t. When are you going to get over it, Harry? Why can’t you just leave the past in the past?”

“Because it isn’t the past for me, Louis! It is my past, my present. It is what I feel every waking moment, and what I dream of when I sleep. It wasn’t my choice, and I can’t just make it go away.” My whole body shook with the weight of the burden I was removing from my shoulders. “Just because you have forgotten, doesn’t mean I have. Or that I will.”

You just looked at me, utterly shell-shocked that I raised my voice. For a moment, you look as if you’re going to respond, to apologize or acknowledge what I said, but you just nodded your head at me slowly, sadly, and grabbed your coat from the back of the couch. You walked away without a backwards glance and, like always, my heart went with you.

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.

-Harry


	7. I Hold You Up Above Everyone

Dear Louis,  
You came home completely plastered. You and I were sharing a hotel room tonight, as Zayn claimed the single and Liam and Niall paired up together - I suspect it was intentional. You barged through the door ungracefully, stumbling around, with a shit-eating grin on your face. Your lips were red and your neck was marked with dark bruises. 

We barely spoke in the last couple days, because Eleanor was in town and we aren’t friends when she’s here. But she left, and it looked to me like you celebrated by getting trashed.  
“Where have you been?” I asked casually, looking up from my magazine. Like I didn’t already know.

“Gay bar,” you answered with a giggle, pulling your shirt over your head. I looked away, biting down hard on my lip. “I had a looooot to drink.”  
You always got silly and goofy when you were drunk. You let down all your inhibitions. I’ve never seen you quite so unguarded as when you have alcohol in your system. 

“Who took the single tonight?” 

“Zayn. Said he needed ‘me’ time. I suspect he has a date with Perrie,” I said suggestively. You waggled your eyebrows at me, pulling on your Leeds t-shirt, which is too raggedy for you to use for anything except sleepwear anymore. My hand automatically went to my wrist, tracing where my bracelet had rested for as long as I could possibly make it last. I looked at you and you were watching me, probably having the same thoughts I was. That weekend camping out in a tent, nothing but music and sex and fun. When our relationship was so new and exciting, when we were still learning everything we could about one another. It was a lifetime ago.

“Who took you out to the bars tonight?” I questioned. It wasn’t your style to go to gay bars unless you were dragged along by a friend. There’s less of a risk of being recognized or photographed at a gay bar, but it’s riskier for PR if you are caught by paparazzi. 

“Myself,” you said casually, flopping down onto your bed and turning on your phone. “The clubs are live here. Killer eye candy, too.” 

The comment was so out of left field that I looked over at you immediately, but you were acting so casual that I knew it had to be the alcohol talking. “Oh yeah?” I asked, curious now. I had always been so confused on how you feel, regarding women and men and Eleanor specifically. 

“Mmh,” you almost purred, eyes closed in what I assumed was reminiscence. “Handsy, too. They were all over me.”

“It’s that ass of yours,” I said without thinking. I immediately wanted to take it back, especially after seeing your rather shocked expression. I shrugged sheepishly. 

“Hah.” You smirked, pleased with yourself, putting your arms behind your head to support yourself. “You’re probably right.”

It felt like a line was crossed, and, knowing I had nothing more to lose, I decided to push the envelope. “I remember when we used to go dancing, back during the Up All Night tour. I was always so bad at it, and you had the attention of every person in the club, girl or boy. You were . . . breathtaking.” I breathed the last word, let it linger in the air for a few awkward moments. 

You rolled over onto his side to face me, supporting his head with his hand. “Breathtaking, huh?” you teased, shooting me a wink. 

“Piss off,” I muttered back, throwing a pillow at you, but I couldn’t help feeling jubilant. We haven’t had interaction - much less positive interaction - in a long time. I missed this happy-go-lucky, carefree side of you so much, and I relished the conversation even if you probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

“The sex,” you said suddenly, and I was so taken aback that I could not reply. “The sex,” you repeated. “It was really good.”

“Wh-what? You . . . had sex tonight?”

“No!” you exclaimed, throwing the pillow back at me. “Our sex. Although I barely remember it. I remember that it was good, is all.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed silent.

“Sorry,” you said after a few minutes. “If I made it awkward. I just think about us sometimes. What we used to be.”

“It’s okay,” I said, still quiet. For some reason, I felt afraid of what you were going to say next.  
“Must be the alcohol. Loosens my lips, you know.” You let out a short bark of humorless laughter. 

“Yeah, I know.” I paused for a minute. “Lou?”

“Mmm?” you answered rather sleepily.

“I know . . . I know things have been strained between us. I know we haven’t gotten along very well in the last few months, and that we’ve had a lot of disagreements. But we were best friends once, and . . . well, I’d like to try to get back to that, if nothing else. I just, I just really miss you as a friend, Lou, and having you as a friend is better than not having you at all. I think that I would be able to put my feelings aside if it meant that we could work on having a better relationship with each other, one that’s not filled with tension and awkwardness. I just want to be able to talk and fight and laugh with each other like we used to, before it all got so messy. I mean, do you . . . do you think you could forgive me for how I’ve been behaving, and be my friend again? I -- Lou?”

I was interrupted by a quiet snore coming from your bed. My shoulders fell, dismayed. In sleep, you looked so peaceful. So quiet, so uninhibited, that I could not be angry with you. I slid off my bed quietly and walked over to yours, staring down at your sleeping form. I meant to kiss you on the forehead, but you shifted your head on the pillow and I caught your nose. I smiled, my heart breaking a little in my chest, as I took you in, with your smushed cheek and your slightly open mouth and disheveled hair. I wanted to kiss you, so badly it hurt, and I even leaned in, before I thought better. Something did, however, catch my attention. You snored and breathed out through your mouth. 

There was no alcohol on your breath.


	8. I Think You'd Be Good to Me

Dear Louis,

I read a fact about the way memory works once. Apparently, the mind doesn’t recall a memory exactly. We may remember bits and pieces, but our mind fills in the rest, whatever we don’t remember. And each time we recall a memory, it changes a little more every time, until there’s almost nothing left of it. The more I dwell on our past, the more of it I cannot remember. There’s no scarier thought than not having you in my future or my past. I would be left without you completely. Your absence in me would be a hole I could not fill. 

Because you brought up our sex the other night, I cannot stop thinking about it. And even though I don’t want to corrupt these memories, once I remember the feeling of your skin on mine, I can’t stop. Your smooth fingertips, skimming my body, peeling off layers of clothing, in my bed, in yours, in our tiny tour bus bunks. Your lips on mine, smashing, licking, biting, aggressively, softly, soothing. Your little mewls when I mouthed the skin on your neck, behind your ear, across your collarbone. The way your hips bucked up and ground into mine, sending electricity through my veins. Feeling your hot, slick skin sliding against mine as we pushed and pulled and grabbed and held on so tightly until there was no space between us. I stole the breath from your mouth with a kiss and you took it back greedily, both of us panting and writhing until we were overcome with ecstasy and no longer able to stay afloat in our own consciousnesses. I slept in your arms and am insomniac without them.

I still haven’t figured out why you lied about being drunk the other night. Did you just want an excuse to speak your mind freely and not be judged for it? Or did you have an ulterior motive behind bringing up our former sex life? I have relived every memory I have, resurfacing slowly until they are painfully tangible, like I can almost touch you if I reach far enough. I am drowning in the thought of your touch, your eyes, your body, and the waves have not broken enough for me to draw breath. I am overwhelmed with you. 

Maybe I am foolish, but I hope this is a sign that you want to start over. I would give anything to try again with you, to be with you and not worry about anyone around us trying to pull us apart. I could suffer through a million insults if it meant that I got to cry into your shoulder while you rubbed circles in my back. No mountain would be too tall if you were there to guide me. You have drifted away from me for so long that I cannot help but feel you have no choice but to gravitate back. This time, I won’t let you pass me by. 

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.  
-Harry


	9. I'd Be So Good to You

Dear Louis, 

Today was our talk with Simon. The one that would ultimately change the course of our futures, forever. Never in my life had I been more excited or anxious for anything. Today, everything changed. For me, for you. For the better.

“I have some good news,” Simon began, pacing the floor of his office. I shifted in my armchair, squirming in anticipation of what he was about to say. Award nominations? A platinum album in another country? “It regards you-” Simon pointed at me, “-and you.” He gestured towards you. I felt a rising lump in my throat. This couldn’t be. I couldn’t let myself think it, lest I be bitterly disappointed.

“There’s been a shift in your management, as you know,” Simon said more broadly, addressing all five of us. I looked over at the couhc to see Liam nodding, Niall’s head cocked in confusion, and Zayn staring down at his fingernails. “And we’ve discussed this a lot, and considered it from every angle. But in the end, logistics and projected sales don’t matter to us as much as the five of you matter.” He sighed, long and deep, hands extended out to you and me, sat across from each other, keeping our distance. “Harry, Louis . . . If you so choose, we would like to allow you to come out.”

I never felt my stomach swoop as hard as it did as I processed the implication of Simon’s words. This thing for which I had been asking and pleading for so long was finally mine. Finally I have permission to openly be who I am. It’s a bittersweet feeling, because this is someone telling me what I’m allowed to do with my life, but there is an overwhelming feeling of freedom. Finally, finally, we can be ourselves. No more lies or hiding or secrets. Just us.

“Naturally, Louis, your break-up with Eleanor will have to be announced first. Could get messy otherwise. Harry, I know you’ve been scheduled to do some PR with the Jenners, which can easily be canceled. I know it’s sudden, but . . . Boys?”

I realized I had been looking down at my hands, barely listening to what Simon was saying, too lost in my own spinning thoughts. You too weren’t paying any attention, scuffing your shoes on the hardwood floor and twisting your fingers together. “Is something wrong?” Simon asked. 

I coughed once to clear my too-tight throat. “Louis and I, we--”

“We broke up,” you finished succinctly.

Simon looked rather taken aback. “Oh.” He moved to sit behind his desk. He rested his elbows on the desk and his fingers formed a steeple. “I see.” He sighed, long and low, and I knew that was a sign of bad news. “Well, that changes everything.”

“Why?” I asked quietly, and I hated how my voice shook.

“We can’t have both of you come out at the same time if you’re not a couple. It wouldn’t be perceived well and the fans would riot. You two would be pushed together whether you wanted to be or not.”

“So what,” you finally spoke up. “It’s the two of us together as a couple, or not at all?”

“I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but-”

“No.” Your voice was hard, authoritative. “Let Harry come out. He should be able to. He deserves that privilege more than I do.”

“No, Louis-” I started, but he cut me off with a head shake.

“Harry, really, I want you to-”

“Boys.” Simon’s voice was final. “I can’t even imagine what you have been going through, and I don’t envy you for it in the slightest. I know how much you love and respect your fans and how much it has killed you to lie to them like this.” He paused, looking down at his hands. When he looked up, he looked me in the eyes directly. “But I’ve gotten to know you well over the past years. I’ve seen you grow up and develop together. I’ve seen you grow close.” I knew he wasn't speaking to the five of us, but just to you and me. “I’ve seen you love, and fight for your right to love each other. How many arguments did we have, over the phone and in person, because you were photographed holding hands? Because you were being intentionally careless, because you wanted people to know about you. I understand that the situation may have caused a rift between you, but have you thought of the ripple effect? Have you even asked your band members how they’ve been affected?”

I sunk in my seat, guilt seeping into my bones. Your expression mirrored my feelings exactly. We both murmured words of dissent, glancing furtively at our fellow bandmates. To my surprise, you spoke up.

“I’m sorry, lads, if what Harry and I went through affected you negatively. It . . . was never our intent.” I could tell you were hesitant to speak for the both of us, but I nodded to you encouragingly, and you continued. “You three have been nothing if not patient and understanding when it came to the two of us. Harry and I had our differences, and a lot of things got in the way. But at the end of the day, we’re all a family. And I promise that, no matter what else happens, that will never change.”

Without much thought we were all gathered in a group hug, Simon included, hugging and squeezing and whispering general reassurances to each other. In the happy chaos, our hands touched across Zayn’s back. Our eyes locked, and you smiled at me, the first genuine one I received from you in a very long time. I smiled back at you, feeling this inexplicable fire in my chest. 

For the first time in a very long time, I knew I was going to be okay.

I know you’ll never read this, but I love you.  
-Harry


	10. Somewhere Between the Lines

“So,” you said, unsure, your fingers twisting in a way that showed your nerves. 

“So,” I answered. I would have said something more eloquent, but the words fell from my tongue as soon as I saw the way you were looking at me. Directly, unabashedly, openly staring. My mouth felt as dry as a desert, and I stayed silent.

“I guess we should . . . talk?” you suggested with a lifted shoulder. I nodded, and you patted the comforter next to where you were sitting. I sat awkwardly, attempting not to touch you as I tried to arrange myself so I was facing you. With a smile, you reached out and placed your hand on my thigh. You stared down at your own hand, sighing slightly, before removing it. “I miss touching you,” you said, with as much honesty as I’ve ever heard you speak. 

“Me too,” I answered, my voice hoarse. “Honestly, Louis, I never thought we’d . . . get to this. To talking, to being friendly. I thought- well, I thought you hated me.”

“Harry,” you said in light admonishment, shaking your head. “I could never, ever hate you. I’m sorry if you felt that way. I was stupid, I let things get to my head, and I let our relationship deteriorate without a word of explanation.” Your head fell in defeat, and I felt my heart start to break again. “Maybe it’s time you finally hear the truth. After all this time, you deserve at least that.”

I couldn’t breathe. You held your hand out to me with no expectation in your face that I would take it. I reached out and carefully placed your palm between mine, as if you would suddenly run away if I made any sudden movements. Your eyes, a starburst of blue and green that pulled me in, locked with mine, and you began your tale.

I listened intently, trying to absorb every word but also memorizing every line, every curve and sharp line of your face, drinking in the feeling of being in your presence. Your explanations were filled with apologies and excuses that I had no use for - in the end, you did not make the choice to leave me, and that is all that matters now. I only needed to hear the words from your mouth to believe it.

“. . . So,” you said by way of ending. “Do you still love me?” you asked sheepishly, glancing at me quickly, your mouth twisted in pain.

I squeezed your hand once, in reassurance. “Of course I love you.” With that, your eyes alit with a spark I hadn’t seen in years. “I never stopped.”

Your lower lip quivered and I felt a pang of sadness in my chest. “It killed me to hurt you, you know,” you whispered, voice tinged with pain. “I fought so hard with Simon, begging and pleading to be let out of this contract. All I wanted to was to be with you. I still want that.” 

I bit my lip. “I can’t believe how much time we lost.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Years. It’s been years since we were together. Since we broke up.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know if this day would ever come. Part of me wanted to have faith in you, or in the old you, at least. But then I would see you with her and I wasn’t so sure anymore. You promised me so much, and then you broke up with me and I couldn’t believe in you anymore.” It was pointless to keep the tears at bay now; they streamed down my cheeks and fell from my chin. 

“Well, I’m promising you this now, Harry.” You slid from the edge of the bed until you were kneeling on the floor, my hands in yours. You stole the breath from my lungs. “I promise to be yours. I promise to be loyal and faithful to you, for as long as you’ll have me. I promise to love and cherish you everyday, from the moment we wake up next to each other until I fall asleep with you by my side. I promise to give you anything and everything you desire in life. I promise I will try to renew your trust in me. I promise I will try to be the man you deserve to have by your side. I promise you my forever, if you’ll take it.” You faltered for a moment before breathing deeply. “I don’t have a ring, but -”

“Oh, Louis-”

“Harry, will you marry me?”

My answer shocked the both of us.


	11. Maybe I Only See What I Want

“No,” I said, calmly, firmly. The word left my mouth before I had even thought to utter it. 

“N-No?” you repeated, as if you couldn’t believe my answer would be anything but yes. The sadness in your eyes could have melted the hardest of hearts.

I shook my head, hands still wrapped around yours. “I didn’t want a proposal from you, Lou. I know I’ll have you forever. I just wanted you to tell me that you are mine.”

“I am,” you whispered, voice shaky and weak. “I’m yours.”

I brought you up off the floor and took you into my arms. For a moment we stood, face to face, hands on each other’s sides, and I saw everything I was looking for in your eyes. You were still seeking some kind of reassurance, so I bent down and placed my lips to yours for the first time in years. The kiss was familiar, comfortable, and indescribably nostalgic. You breathed into it, fingernails clawing my skin, tearing at my clothes and bringing me closer to you. I obliged, moving my hands to your face and opening my mouth to yours. We kissed with a hunger, an innate need to recoup the time we had lost without each other. Our teeth and tongues clashed, fingers rubbing, feeling, intertwining. I moved my mouth to your neck, biting your pulse point, eliciting the sweetest sounds from you. I felt your hands below my shirt, tugging up. I pulled away just long enough for you to pull my t-shirt over my head, and tried to ignore the nagging thought that I wasn’t as in shape as I used to be. You stroked your thumbs across my hip bones, lightly brushing my Might as well… tattoo, as if you read my mind. The hunger in the room dissipated, and left behind something very raw and tender. 

“Can we--” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s been so long-”

I kissed you by way of answer, gathering you up in my arms as gently as possible and guiding you to the bed. You gazed up at me and I was immediately transported back to our XFactor days, fooling around in the bunk, trying to keep quiet so we didn’t wake the other boys. We spent so much time just discovering each other, over and over every day until we could read each others’ bodies like maps. I wondered briefly if I would still remember everything I used to know about you, your little pressure points and where you liked to be touched and kissed. 

“Are you remembering, too?” you asked me, and again I swore you were a mind reader. You always knew me too well.

“Yeah,” I said, reminiscent. “Things were so different then. There was no pressure on us to try to be something we’re not. We were together and we were happy and that was all that mattered, for a while.”

“Luckily for us, we have that luxury again.” You flashed me an irresistible smile, and I kissed it away. “We can rediscover each other, if you’d like.” 

I kissed your forehead gingerly, moving my way down your face to your mouth, and you leaned up to meet your lips with mine. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

_I love you._  
-Harry


	12. I Still Have Your Letter

_Dear Diary? Is that how I’m supposed to do this?_

Yes, Louis. Just write.

_Okay, bossy. So, Harry and I got married today -_

June 23rd, 2017. Finally.

_Hey, I wasn’t the one who wanted a long engagement -_

No, but you did plan every little aspect of the wedding in that time period, didn’t you?

_. . . Touche. Anyway, as a wedding present, Harry presented me with this diary, and upon reading it, he asked me to make comments about his entries._

It was not a _gift_. A lot of persuasion was involved on your part.

_We’re married now, sweetheart. That means that whatever is yours, is mine._

Fine. Just get on with it. 

_Well, first, I think Harry might have a flair for the melodramatic -_

LOUIS.

_FINE. In all honesty, it was very emotional to read, because many of my thoughts during these recorded conversations were the same. And sometimes I wished I had an outlet like a journal to vent to about everything I felt._

Lou, are you crying?

_No, shut up. The ink just smudged._

Aw. I love you too.

_I’m very grateful for that. I put you through hell._

You’re lucky you were worth it.

_And I’ve thanked Heaven every day since._

Would you consider writing a journal of our married life together?

_I could, but it would be pretty boring. I suspect we’ll be the average touring boyband-member couple._

Nothing about us will _ever_ be average. I think that’s a guarantee, at the very least.

_Do you think we’ll have to quit the band when we have kids?_

I think we’ll have all branched into our own careers by that time, anyway. 

_Exactly how long do you thinking I’m waiting before we become parents? The adoption process is long, and I was thinking we should probably start soon . . ._

You really think we’re ready now?

_As ready as we’ll ever be. I mean, I know we’re young, but this is something that we’ve wanted for a long time. Plus it could still take years. I just want to start a family with you._

I want that too, Lou. Very much. I’m just scared about how it’ll affect the band. We can’t be touring with a baby on our hips. 

_Then maybe the band takes a hiatus. We’ve been discussing it anyway. If we all take a couple years off, we could raise our child and the other boys can venture into what they’ve always discussed doing. Zayn can paint, Liam can produce, Niall can write and play guitar. This lifestyle isn’t ideal for bringing up a baby, but it’s who we are._

I’ve just decided something.

_What’s that?_

I don’t want to adopt. I want to try surrogacy.

_I thought we ruled that out?_

Yes, because we didn’t want the child to be a part of either of us if it couldn’t be both of us. I changed my mind. I want our child to be yours.

_Harry . . ._

I’ve thought about this a lot, Lou. I know that I love you, and that I’m sure of our love and future together. And I’m sure nothing would make me happier than a little version of you, with all your kindness and vibrancy. This feels right. 

_I’m flattered and honored. This child will be as much yours as it is mine. Our only issue is finding a surrogate._

Oh don’t worry about that, I have a feeling women willing to carry your baby are not in short supply. That will come in time. Right now, I’m just looking forward to being married to you. Although my last name is considerably longer now. :(

_Don’t blame me; you were the one who wanted to use the hyphen._

I thought it would be trendy! I’m only now regretting it because it takes up a lot of room on my checks.

_And now we will give that last name to our children._

That’s fine, most of the names I picked out are short enough that it won’t matter too much.

_Were you planning on letting me in on that? Because I have a few ideas myself._

Oh yeah?

_It’s one of the first things I thought about when we met, before I even knew we were going to be put together in a band. What about James?_

….We’ll talk about it later.

_Why do I get the feeling that I won’t have much say in this matter?_

I just want our child’s name to be unique!

_Well it’s not going to be something weird like Apple or Bear or Faloola. Not happening._

…I just had a thought.

_Yes?_

I am going to be so happy with you. 

_I’m very glad you feel that way, especially considering you already married me._

I mean it in the sense that I never really believed I ever would. There was so much going on in our lives, and so many things I was unsure about. But I finally know my future. And it’s with you.

_Better late than never, I suppose._

You were worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Come to say hi on **[tumblr](https://stylslou.tumblr.com)** if you wish :)


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